


Called Loyal

by FarFlungDreams



Category: Marvel
Genre: In Character, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarFlungDreams/pseuds/FarFlungDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loyal is not a hero, he's a nobody with a small talent, not even on the radar of SHIELD...which turns out to be a good thing after the events surrounding the WINTER SOLDIER. As a favor to an old friend, Loyal breaks into a secure facility to retrieve a file. Little does he know that he is the one who will set off a chain of events that will unleash villains into the world.</p>
<p>Rated mature for violence, language, and future lemons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Small Favor...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. Marvel, Disney, and their associates own the Avengers. I make no money from this so please don't sue. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and plots belong to me. 
> 
> Chapters will average 1500 words and be posted weekly.

 

 

 

 

Light burned my eyes when I opened them.  
  
“What’s your name?” The voice came, perhaps inevitably, from the dark. Classic torture technique, using fear to control the interrogation. I should know, I’d used it often enough on other people. Unfortunately, for my captors, their adherence to the standard methods made me sort of…comfortable. Like reading a book for the hundredth time, knowing the ending and every word in between.  
  
I flexed my shoulders, felt the tug of the plastic restraints on my wrists and elbows. Normally, I wouldn’t talk. That whole, name, rank and serial number is for newbies. Where I come from, you don’t give Them the time of day much less something as sacred as a name.  
If you are very good, you can turn an interrogation back on your captor. Get them to reveal more of themselves, or their plans…my mentor is famous for doing exactly that. The Black Widow could get a priest to confess.  
  
I am not Natasha Romanov.  
  
There are days when I think Natasha Romanov isn’t Natasha Romanov, and that is why I am sitting on this metal chair, in this dark room, with this bright light, and one hell of a headache. I wanted to believe that Natasha, the woman, existed…but maybe all that’s left is the Black Widow, a spy who can cross and double cross according to whatever situation she finds herself in.  
  
Allow me to digress.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
>>>>  
  
  
  
  
  
  
My power is not all that impressive. I can’t crush rocks with my fists or shoot lightning from my arse like some people these days. Perhaps super humans always existed and we just woke up to them one day. All the way back to the Bible, there were giant and mighty men. We’ve had stories about people like that ever since. Now with the events in New York and the not-so secret school for “gifted youngsters” there’s not much that’s still a myth.  
  
Yeah, that includes me I guess. I can feed off of emotions. I guess the word for me would be psychic vampire. I heard Rouge can do a tripped out version of this, but she ends up killing the person she touches. With me, people walk away feeling emotionally listless and tired. Sucks when I date, but at least I don’t kill ‘em before I walk ‘em to the door.  
  
Still, a guy’s gotta eat.  
  
Put me in a room with some fanatics and it’s like a buffet. Eat enough of that good stuff, it starts to affect me. I get stronger and faster the more I eat. Just put me in a room with a bunch of PTA moms or environmental focus groups, and I’ll have myself a regular smorgasbord. People I avoid like the plague? Politicians. Those guys are about as constant as pi and have all the emotional depth of a single celled organism.  
  
Which is why, despite my gifts, I’m still tied up to this chair. To get those stupid files, I had to break into some nasty places and took a lot of juice. At the time, I hadn’t minded because my contact traded in one of my big markers. Owing someone in SHIELD can be dangerous, and getting a file seemed like an easy way to stay off the radar. So, after completing the heist, I dropped them at to Natasha’s courier before heading to get some well-earned vodka, and then things got hazy. 

 

>>>>

 

“You can speak, can’t you?”  
  
I licked my lips…ouch. Mr. Faceless Voice had taken a few swings at me while I had been unconscious apparently. Nice of ‘m. If only he would get a little closer, needed a line of sight, I needed to eat or this could get ugly.  
  
Uglier.  
  
“Mr. Loyal can you hear me?”  
  
Well shit.  
  
“Someone’s been talking.” Not that information is safe these days in a community of super spies, hackers, telepaths, and magical spells, but I expected a little more from the people I worked with. I kept the pool of people who knew my name small. No one on earth has missed the fact that names have power.  
Now this jerkoff knew mine…or part of mine.  
  
“Loyal,” There was a shuffling of papers in the dark. “You took something that didn’t belong to you. A certain file on one of our patients. We were prepared against numerous individuals who might have an interest in our work. You were too small to even think about.”  
  
Rolling my shoulders again, I decided to play along. Unless something about this situation changed, I was screwed. “You were prepared for lions and not mice. There’s a parable in there somewhere.”  
  
“Who are you working for, Loyal?”  
  
I put on the most innocent expression I could muster. “What makes you think I’m not interested in the Winter Soldier for his own sake? An old hero comes out of the woodwork with that kind of hardware, working for…well, what he would consider the enemy?”  
  
The papers stopped shuffling and the man came closer to me. Idiot.  
  
“You don’t consider us enemies?”  
  
“What’s the difference these days? Smart kids know to hide when mommy and daddy are fighting.”  
  
Right then, the jerk laughed. Screw it all! Is maniacal laughter in the handbook? Were their brains in jars? Oh well. If he cracked up enough, maybe I could get him to step into the spotlight. Soulless or not, I would snack on his twisted emotions and burp afterward.  
  
“I would enjoy more time with you, but your interrogator has arrived.”  
  
“You didn’t get that honor, I guess.”  
  
“Oh, no. With your abilities that would be counterproductive wouldn’t it Loyal? No, we’ve brought someone special for you. Someone you will be comfortable talking to, who can’t be harmed by your particular gift.”  
  
Bloody hell. I was going to find whoever snitched on me and toss them into a wood chipper. If I ever got out of here…  
  
A door opened and shut, without so much as a pool of light to show me a silhouette of my captor. My stomach rumbled, and I thought longingly of the rich pierogis and salty borscht that I would have had with my vodka.  
  
I pulled on the plastic restraints twisting my wrists back and forth, pressing on the joint of my thumb.  
  
Gently…so gently…  
  
My thumb popped and my wrists shed the restraints.  
  
Of course this room was monitored, these people were not low level thugs I would have preferred. I heard someone outside the door shouting immediately. Through the vents, there was a hiss of gas.  
  
I took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness toward the door. It would be locked, and heaven knew it was probably air tight…I had two minutes to get out before I took a breath. Rolling up my sleeve I bared my left arm, touching the skin just above my elbow. My thumb hurt like a mad dog, but I could ignore it for now as I pressed down, forcing a plastic splinter from its hiding place.  
  
Ah, the tricks you learn in juvie.  
  
Luck was with me, the locking mechanism on the door wasn’t electronic. Wherever they’d taken me, the facility must be older. I opened the door on the face of a surprised looking young man with rabbit teeth and wide eyes.  
  
Dinner at last!  
  
I always describe what I do as taking a breath with my soul. Sometimes I think I do what I do because I only have half a soul myself, so I steal from others to make up the lack. Souls are warm, the emotions vary, the energy varies but every soul I have ever tasted has been like breathing in the sun.  
He’ll grow back what I take from him… eventually, which is why I never feel guilty.  
Now that I have an excess of energy, I pop my thumb back into place without flinching. I steal the guard’s jacket and hat quickly, and then pick him up by the scruff of his neck and his belt.  
  
“Make better choices!” I admonish as I toss the guard into the room that was still trying to fill with gas and slam the door behind me. Asleep and on the floor he shouldn’t inhale too much anyway. Poor dumb kid.  
  
Securing the cap more solidly on my head I start to head down the unfamiliar corridor. My disguise will not bear a close inspection.  
  
As I made my way past what must be other interrogation rooms, I wondered why a battalion of creeps had not descended on me. There was no way that kid hadn’t gotten off an alarm, I’d heard him shouting.  
  
I stopped in my tracks.  
  
They knew about my powers…  
  
Down the hall I heard the sound of clanking, unhurried footsteps.  
  
Of course.  
  
My interrogator was on the way.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 _To Be Continued in the Next Installment…_


	2. A Small Inconvenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero stumbles into a certain witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. Marvel, Disney, and their associates own the Avengers. I make no money from this so please don't sue. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and plots belong to me.
> 
> Chapters will average 1500 words and be posted weekly.

 

 

 

 

            Old buildings are wonderful things. In a neighborhood that has survived enough history any given structure has a story that would surprise its current residents. An apartment building that was once a mansion, a bistro that was once a firehouse built on top of a hospital that was once a repurposed church.

 

            Now that I was out of the dark interrogation room I tried to understand where I was…and came up blank. The walls were thick, ancient stone, quarried and set by hand. The doors were newer, made of lead. Wires were bundled along the arched ceiling, bolted to each corner. This hallway was short and narrow, in the fashion of old castles, and I knew there would be a lot of turns to confuse whoever entered.

 

            My interrogator was not in a hurry apparently. I could still hear his heavy steps twenty yards away and around a corner.

 

            Acting on instinct, I pulled myself up the wall, using the handholds in the old stone to get to the ceiling. This was not the building I stole the files from. Until I found a clock, I couldn’t even take a guess at where they had taken me.

 

            I crawled into the darkest corner of the ceiling, bracing my arms legs as best I could. Thank heaven for classical architecture. Even with the energy from the kid, this wasn’t easy.

 

            Whoever was on his way was about to turn the corner. My curiosity burned. I should have been making my way across the ceiling. It would be tricky to stay out of the light from those hanging lights, but I could manage as long as whoever came didn’t have a reason to look up. I found myself hunkering down to watch.

 

            I’m just a part of the wall, whoever you are. A little black rain cloud.

 

            Who did they think was immune to my power?

 

            Iron Man walked around the corner. If I’d had any piss in me, it would have been on the front of my pants that’s for damn sure. I almost let go of the wall, I almost demanded to know what the hell Stark thought he was doing. My breath came easier, and I started to make my way down the wall. This could be an operation I knew nothing about. Stark didn’t hold with SHIELD any more than I did. If the trend on Twitter was to be believed, he had been right to be so cautious.

 

            He walked past me, towards the door to my interrogation room, and just as I put my feet on the floor with perfect silence, he opened the door to my former cell. I swear I had my mouth to call out when he raised his arm. I saw the prone figure of the guard I’d tossed inside.

 

            The gas from the room, even dissipated by the air in the corridor, made my head swim. Stark’s suit probably protected him…although why he was all-fired determined to save a probable Hydra agent was beyond me. Stark was all about peace these days (except in the matter of aliens) maybe he wanted to reason with the guy.

 

            My mouth was open, I had the breath in my lungs, about to call out to him, when, with a firecracker bang, the guard fell into a dozen burned pieces. The gas in the room ignited. Only the fact that I’d just eaten (drank? Absorbed? I am such a _freak_ ) made my reflexes fast enough to jump back to a safe distance. Even so, the heat made my skin shiver.

 

            Pushing myself up on my elbows, I strained my eyes against the flames to really look at the figure…and I found my power tentatively reach out with my sight to snare whatever soul I could and replenish what I’d just lost.

 

             Whatever that thing was, it was not Tony Stark. It wasn’t human. Damn, but I wasn’t even sure it was _alive_. There was no soul inside that thing.

 

            It turned itself then, just a little, surveying the cell and the burning corpse.

 

            Even with the fire, I could see its slit eyes and gaping mouth glowed red.

 

            I ran, and I am not ashamed. Anyone who has seen A Space Odyssey knows to stay away from robots and glowing red anything, but I can’t laugh at the comparison. That thing in the hall…it looked like a person. It could easily have been any one of Stark’s creations. Then is set someone on fire and watched them burn in a way that went beyond cold and clinical…it was ones and zeroes.

 

            I slipped around the corner and booked it. There was a small chance the thing hadn’t seen me, and I would take it.

 

            Keeping a sharp eye out for cameras or sensors, I made my way…I didn’t care where I was going actually. I could have been heading out, or deeper into their headquarters. At that moment I all I needed was to be away from that thing.

 

            I felt the activity ahead. Hospitals, military bases, they all behave the same way when there is an emergency. When shit goes down, even the air changes, becomes almost electrified with energy even mundane people can sense. For me, it was like catching a whiff of prime rib in the next room, I couldn’t eat it, but I knew it was there. A hundred or so people on alert, moving…

 

            …moving right toward me.

 

            I ducked into the first room I found that was unlocked.

 

            The second I closed the door, I could hear booted footsteps running on the other side.

 

            “…to the second and third corridor! We can’t let him get outside the compound.”

 

            “Yes, sir!”

 

            “Remember, he is wanted alive for questioning. You know the price for failure.”

 

            Yeah, I thought bitterly. You would get burned alive by a whatever-the-hell that was. Who were these fools, and how had they gotten mixed up with that thing?

 

            When Natasha contacted me with this job, I’d thought they were just another branch of Russian Hydra. Obviously this was more freaky than that old organization…more obsessed somehow, and plain ol’ vanilla Hydra were about as single minded about their goals as it was possible to get and still be human. Which was the problem here.

 

            Their leader, it seemed, was not.

 

            “You need to get out of that room, Loyal.”

 

            I’ve had voices in my head before. When I worked in groups, or took part in a complicated drop, I would wear a disposable communications device. No big deal. This voice wasn’t in my ear, it was in my head.

 

            Bad to worse in an instant…if there was a telepath in the vicinity I was royally screwed. Natasha was so going on my do not call list. In fact, I might even lay low for awhile.

 

            “Loyal. Loyal I want you to do something for me.”

 

            I threw my back against a wall and looked around. The room was dark and I could not feel anyone close by. Only the strongest telepaths could access a mind without a direct line of sight. Unless Professor X was practicing his falsetto voice, this was someone new.

 

            She giggled softly.

 

            God help me she sounded young.

 

            “Loyal I’m trapped…it’s hard for me to manipulate myself beyond this field. I need you to go over to the control panel on the far wall. And Turn. It. Off.”

 

            Okay, if there was a girl being held by Hydra, it could mean that she was something they feared…or something they loved. I swallowed hard, still reaching out with my extra sense, I tried to find her. If I could taste her, I would know if she was on the level or if she would turn my brain into soup.

 

            “I can hear what you want, but your powers won’t work any better than mine through this field. Once you free me, I won’t mind if you have a bite.”

 

            I fumbled along the wall until I felt a switch. Regardless of my fear, I needed to get out of this place and a fellow prisoner just might help me, even if they weren’t playing on the same side. Until there was a better option, I had no choice. An old halogen light flickered and buzzed before finally casting a weak, greenish glow on the room.

 

            She was standing right next to me.

 

            I nearly jumped out of my skin before I realized that she was behind some kind of…force glass.

 

            “Hello,” She whispered. And this time I heard her with my ears.

 

            She looked thin and tiered. Her red hair hung in a limp mass below her shoulders and her eyes were puffy and unfocused from lack of sleep, or torture...or the fact that she was in a fucking cage. Her pale skin glistened with sweat, as if the act of speaking to me had cost her what was left of her strength. She was young, perhaps twenty. The emptiness in her expression made me think she had spent a good portion of her years in this facility.

 

            Pity melted my heart even as my unease grew. I knew, without another word, without another look, that this girl was completely unstable.

 

            She put her hand on the glass. “My name is Wanda. Help me, please.”

 

            “Okay.”

 

 

 

_To Be Continued in the Next Installment…_


	3. A Small Explosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon the lateness of the post. Thanksgiving. Ugh.
> 
>  
> 
> This is a work of fan fiction. Marvel, Disney, and their associates own the Avengers. I make no money from this so please don't sue. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and plots belong to me.
> 
> Chapters will average 1500 words and be posted weekly.

 

            The control panel was complicated, mostly because it was old. The abbreviations were all in Russian, not my first language, when they were labeled at all. Most top secret, cold war machines were as ambiguous as possible.

 

            Spies. Ugh.

 

            “It’s a complicated sequence. It was set up so that I cannot foul it from my side. I watched them through the window, you can disable the failsafe and I will do the rest.”

 

            Telepaths. Ugh.

 

            If she heard my thoughts she didn’t tell me.

 

            “Okay, lets do this now before I lose my nerve, please.”

 

            “All right, Loyal. Here goes.”

 

            It took roughly three minutes to do as she instructed. Some switches needed to be flipped, some numbers pressed, a mechanism overloaded, simple things that I did on any given assignment. Not really. Most of my jobs required little in the way of actual espionage. But I sure felt like a super spy by the time the console beeped a warning at me and the glow from the glass faded.

 

            She tiled her elfin head to the side, and a tiny smile pulled on her thin lips. “Why Loyal…I think that’s it.”

 

            Something red and bright shot from her hands into the glass plate and it shattered.

 

            A telepath who could actually manifest power?

 

            Eeep.

 

            I stood frozen as she gingerly lifted her bare foot over the sill and my chivalry kicked in. Okay okay, maybe not chivalry. Despite the fact that she was a telepath and was likely trolling around in my head, despite the fact that she was probably a telekinetic and God knew what else…she was thin! She was small. She was bruised. I was not going to make her walk over glass to escape this prison.

 

            So I swept her up before her little foot touched the glass.

 

            Two things happened simultaneously at that moment. The first being that another pane of glass I hadn’t noticed before also shattered. Well, it exploded more than shattered, as if someone threw a chair through it. I flinched and almost dropped Wanda. The second thing was an alarm, the kind that should have signaled a tornado or nuclear attack, blared through every speaker in the complex.

 

            Wanda reached up and put her hands over my ears, and spoke in my mind again. “Don’t worry about the noise. I’ll guide you out.”

 

            I nodded and looked over my shoulder. The glass had hidden another little room much like Wanda’s. There was a bed, a toilet, padded walls…and no one inside.

 

            “It’s okay. Loyal, just do as I tell you and you’ll get to eat your…your potato and onion dumplings?”

 

            “Pierogies.”

 

            I felt her laugh again, a slightly maniacal sound that unhinged my spine a little.

 

            “Walk out the door.”

 

            “What about the guards?”

 

            “Oh, don’t worry about any of the guards. Events have gotten ahead of them. So to speak.”

 

            With the siren’s still blaring and the threat of death still hanging over my head, I carried the waif out of the room. I’m not super strong or anything, even when I’ve feasted on emotions for hours, I’m not much stronger than the strongest weight lifter. Right now, I was anything but at the top of my game, and she was still light and easy to carry. So I didn’t put her down even after I got her clear of the glass and out of the room. She made no move to hop down either…just sayin’.

 

            Instead, she kept herself turned toward me, her arms bent at an odd angle so that she could keep my ears covered. That little smile was still played on her lips as if we were walking through Disneyland instead of an underground bunker.

 

            “Turn left here, Loyal. I would like to taste these pierogies. Will you procure some for me when we are outside?”

 

            Great. Now she wanted me to feed her. Next thing you know she cookie and a glass of milk and a warm spot by the fire.

 

            “I am not a pet. I have not tasted…food in a long time.”

 

            “Sorry. Um, yeah. You get us out of here and I’ll get us some grub as long as it isn’t shawarma.”

 

            “We’ll be out soon. Will you step into that elevator, please? And press the button for sublevel 18.”

 

            “We’re going down?”

 

            “No silly. All the buttons are mislabeled. This will take us to the garage level. Trust me.”

 

            Usually when people say trust me, all the alarms go off in my head. This girl might be manipulating me. Or she might be telling the truth. I pressed the button.

 

            I didn’t know this place. Until I could get on some familiar ground, I would have to trust this little elf.

 

            Once the elevator doors shut, the sound of the alarm decreased exponentially. Wanda took her hands off my ears and snuggled into my shoulder with zero hesitation or embarrassment. She closed her eyes and looked about ready to sleep. As if the events that came next had no interest for her.

 

            With trust like this, how could I possibly eat her?

 

            Damnit and I was hungry too.

 

            The elevator pinged and opened. There were bodies in green uniforms and medical scrubs lying everywhere. I started to pull back, wondering if the robot had gone through here. I didn’t know what that thing was, but my powers would be useless against it.

 

            “Hmmm,” Wanda murmured. “What was that? I lost the connection. What were you worried about?”

 

            “Nothing. You had better step down though, okay? We might…we might have to run.”

 

            “Run? I’m not sure I could. Don’t worry. All of these men are dead. Just walk over them to the double doors. There will be a car waiting for us. And then pierogies.”

 

            I gulped, my eyes darting into every shadow, looking for whatever had killed these men. Whatever Wanda knew, however she knew it, she hadn’t lies to me yet.

 

            “Okay.”

 

            So I hefted her more firmly into my grip and proceeded to step over about a dozen men and woman who looked like they were still warm as if this had only happened minutes ago, seconds. What had happened here in the last few minutes was anyone’s guess.

 

            The doors were broken and swinging on their hinges and I walked through them, blinking into the sunlight. I didn’t immediately recognize the area we were in, it looked like this compound had been carved out of a mountain side. The wind cut through me at once and had to bite my lip to keep from cussing.

 

            I shouldn’t have bothered. Telepaths.

 

            She just shook her head.

 

            A car rolled up the weed choked courtyard. I couldn’t see the driver clearly but I felt him through the glass.

 

            Wanda pinched my shoulder and shook her head.

            “Wait till we are in the car, Loyal. I know you’re hungry.”

 

            Okay, now I knew she was messing with my head. At this point I was at the end of my strength and I would have tried to eat anyone still converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. But I felt as though I were wading through pea soup.

 

            The car rolled to a stop in front of me and I prepared to do a little acrobatic dance to open the door and get Wanda  inside. Before I even began my first step the door was open and Wanda disappeared from my arms.

 

            “Getinsidegetinsidegetinsidegetyourslowassinthecar.”

 

            I stared at the open door. Wanda was sitting in the seat, apparently going to sleep, and the driver was back behind the wheel. Just who in the hell had been in the cell next to her?

 

 

 

 

 

_To Be Continued in the Next Installment…_


	4. A Small Sip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. Marvel, Disney, and their associates own the Avengers. I make no money from this so please don't sue. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and plots belong to me.

Chapter Four

 

 

            As soon as my butt touched the seat my new friend stomped on the gas. I mean stomped. Forget about shutting the door, I focused on pulling my foot up before I was dragged back out. The Engine roared, the tired squealed, and, I swear, dug three inches down into the concrete before getting enough traction to blast forward. My door was thrown shut just a millisecond before I got my feet out of the way of being crushed.

            Before I could open my mouth the car jerked to the side, slamming me into Wanda, who sighed but did not wake.

            “Bloody…” The car swerved again. “Oof…damnit…do you know how to drive?”

            “Idon’tknowadamnthingaboutdrivingbutwehavetogetoffthismountain.”

            “What?”

            “IsaidIdon’tknowadamnthingaboutdrivingbutwehavetogetoffthismountain.”

            “What?”

            “SHUT. UP.”

            Okay today hadn’t gone as I planned. Kidnapping. Torture. A breakout that involved what I strongly suspected were mutant powers. Now some kid was yelling at me, and driving like a maniac. At least, I assumed it was a kid. I could only see his profile and his reflection in the rearview mirror. Looks can be deceiving with mutants though. Damn. I still had the pea soup feeling. I couldn’t wake up, couldn’t focus. I needed to eat…right now.

            Eat.

            I blinked, and for the life of me I could not remember how …

            It was then that I felt her hand clutch my arm.

            She looked like a little elf. I know that’s stupid, and probably insulting, but it’s the closest thing I could think of. She looked transparent. As though the sunlight would pass through her pale skin at any moment. I wanted to believe in hell so that the people (and I use that word generically) who did this could be tossed in it. With all the dimensions out there, all the parallel worlds, it had to exist. There were shadows under her eyes. Some of the fingers on her left hand looked crooked and in this light I could see needle tracks in her right arm.

            She patted my arm and smiled.

            “I’m sorry you’re hungry. But I won’t let you eat my brother. Go to sleep for now. We’ll find you  someone to eat later.”

            And then I knew no more.

 

 

            “…he’ll be awake in a moment. If he isn’t already.”

            I knew that voice. It was Wanda. I tried to open my eyes but I felt as though someone had dipped my entire body in a vat of superglue.

            “Don’t worry. I have a good feeling about this. He’s going to help us. I’ve seem a little of his power.”

            Another pause.

            “Just be patient. Run around the city again, brother. I know that cell has driven you half mad, has it not been the same for me? But we must be wise for this to work.” A door opened and closed quickly; and then Wanda was right beside me. Her soft voice whispered in my ear. “Wake up. Wake up, Loyal.”

            At last I pried my eyes open to see her sitting beside me. Her reddish hair was braided and pulled over her shoulders. She wore a pink tee-shirt and dark blue jeans. She smelled like the cheap shampoo and soaps they leave on the counter at middling motels. Even with new clothes and a wash she still looked too thin and her eyes too dark.

            “Where are we?” I murmured.

            “Just outside of Paris.”

            “Paris?”

            “We needed to be away from the facility with all haste. How are you feeling?”

            “Horrible.”

            “There is someone to eat just over here. Do you want to sit up?”

            And then I felt it. There in the corner was another life force. I looked blearily at it for a few moments before the sight actually translated in my brain.  A woman was tied up in the corner next to a cheap desk.

            “She’s one of them,” Wanda said. “We went looking for the nearest cell of…what do you call them SHIELD?” She giggled. “Pietro pulled her away from the others before they could turn around. She has been most…uncooperative telling us we want to know.”

            I was so hungry I inhaled before I could think.

            People are a jumbled mess of emotions most of the time. Maybe it’s true that I didn’t have enough of my own, so I had to steal this strength from others. I felt shriveled and hungry and desperate until the rush of the woman’s soul fell over me. I breathed it in like a greedy nicotine addict.

            This woman was…dark.

            In my life I had tasted some pretty nasty people; but this woman was something else. She stared at me as she struggled against her gag and the torn bed sheets. She wanted to curse me and Wanda, to tear us apart and stare at our insides. Her whole being was full of the desire to cause pain. Her capture was an insult to her dignity.

            I broke off, panting. “What…what…”

            “Did you see inside her yet? Can you tell us anything about the other cell?”

            “The other what?”

            “Drink some more. You’ve got to find out where they are keeping the others.”

            I shook my head. “That woman is filthy…I don’t want any part of her inside me.”

            Wanda took a deep breath. “I can affect the odds. Sooner or later I will find the cell. It would be easier, a lot easier, if I could go straight to it. There are people trapped in there. People that could prove to be powerful allies. There are also people that need to get a taste of their own medicine.”

            “Look…”

            “Drink the rest, Loyal.”

            Never in a million years should I have turned to do just that…I believe what my mama told me and my mama said you are what you eat. But I found myself turning to do just that without thinking.

            I took another breath.

            Now, I know that there’s some debate over this, but I know that people have souls. Even the darkest human being. Memories, personality, conscience and eternity are a part of every human cell, inside every protein written into out DNA. I feed on those things. A soul is a canvas or a block of clay, and for your whole life you spend making impressions on it with the things you do and the places you go. Usually I sip, souls are flexible things and can grow back if torn, but I was so hungry.

            It was like drinking sludge.

            The woman’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she slumped back against the wall.

            “There now. There is color back in your cheeks.”

            “She’s been here in Paris. She…she was listening for something…or someone… a man with a metal arm.”

            Wanda’s hands were like daggers on my shoulders. “A metal arm? Are you sure?”

            “All her thoughts are bent on it.”

            Wanda through back her head and laughed. “Yes! I knew I recognized her. That man was…he was important to them. I heard them talking about him when I was thawed. Does she know where he is?”

            I shrugged. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t pull specific information.”

            “Damn.”

            The door was thrown open again.

            A young man was suddenly sitting next to me on the couch. Suddenly, I remembered Wanda calling him her brother, though they looked almost nothing alike. His hair was silver, and fell over his gray eyes in a sloppy off hand manner that little boys with time and money try to duplicate with hair gel. He was dressed in a green army surplus jacket and baggy trousers.

            “So sis. He’s awake and that woman looks as hollow as a chocolate Easter bunny. Tell me we have some good news.”

            “She was part of the team. But I don’t know where they sent the soldier.”

            My head snapped up. “The Winter Soldier? I just went to all the trouble of stealing that bastard’s file for Nat…for a friend.”

            Wanda takes a deep satisfied breath. “Tell me there’s another copy.”

            “There might be. Why do you ask?”

 

_To Be Continued in the Next Installment…_


	5. A Small Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the questions become dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. Marvel, Disney, and their associates own the Avengers. I make no money from this so please don't sue. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and plots belong to me.
> 
> Chapters will average 1500 words and be posted weekly.

 

 

            Ah. The Winter Soldier.

            When the Black Widow asks you to settle a debt, there’s little you can do but agree. Still, getting information on that slippery bastard was dangerous. For years, that assassin had a reputation as big and as bad as it gets. Worse, he didn’t seem to have any agenda other than to do his master’s bidding. Who his masters actually were…now that’s up for grabs.

            Some said he worked for a covert branch of SHIELD, others claimed HYDRA…well, it turned out that everyone was right about that. How they managed to preserve and enslave him was anyone’s guess.  Who knew what he wanted now that he was in the wind, so to speak. If he knew he had a file, he might not want anyone knowing about it. I knew enough about the Winter Soldier to know I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his particular talents.

            Wanda sat down on the couch, her head leaned contemplatively on her brother’s narrow shoulder. I tried to settle my stomach with a glass of tap water from the tiny kitchen.

            My mind swam.

            That sludge that I drank from that woman, that I breathed from her, sat on my soul like an oil stain on seawater.

            Yeck.

            “Loyal, where is your copy of the file?”

            “What do you need from him that you can’t get from someone else?”

            “He has some insider information. If they’ve done to him half of what you say, than his mind will be open to…suggestion. We will have to know more before we proceed. Take us to the file.”

            I wanted to resist. I looked into her red eyes and knew that if I helped her, than I would probably get into a lot of trouble. At best I would be on the radar of the powers that be which was something even more dangerous for a relatively little fish like myself.

            Looking down at the body of the woman, I tried to summon my resolve, or at least my sense of self-preservation.

            That woman, however she had started down this road, had ended up a pretty miserable human being. I know there’s some debate about this too; but I know for a fact that there is such a thing as evil. Real, sticky, dark evil --the insidious kind that wears all kinds of masks and damns souls to hell. That woman had a bit of it inside her, and she hadn’t even been very high up in the organization.

            Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bleeding heart, much less a martyr. I just want to get paid and enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

            Wanda reached out to scrape her rough nails across my cheek, drawing my face to her eyes. Did they look a little more crimson now than they had a moment before? My mind skittered over the thought before going blank again.

            “You’ll help me, Loyal, won’t you?”

            The words tumbled from my lips before I knew it. “I have my copy.”

 

\----

 

            For people like me, safe house is a relative term. Sometimes it’s an actual house or apartment. More often though it’s a corner in the shadows, or a counter at a coffee shop, a post office box, one time in Cairo it was a little tent rolled up in an alley. It’s a place where you’ve scouted, where you’re not known, where you can fall back if everything falls to shit.

            You keep things there. Money taped to the wall. Your keys under a floorboard. Weapons in the walls, in innocuous looking boxes, or under a seat. When you have to get out fast, you go to your safe place get what you need, and then run.

            It was a little disorienting to wake up in a different place, twice in one day that is. Had it been one day? Yeesh I needed to check the date. I needed my computer, or at least cell phone.

            France is a wonderful place to be if you need to run. It’s near a dozen other countries and an excellent railway system. You could be in a thousand different places in a matter of hours, the middle east, Britain, or any number of places in Western Europe.

            Needless to say, I spend a lot of time here.

            My French is better than my Russian and I can pass for a local as long as no one looks too closely.

            Wanda and her weird ass brother however, stick out like sore thumbs. Wanda’s clothes hang off her body and her eyes…well. I pulled her into the nearest building that looked like a clothing shop.

            She stumbled in, blinking in the darkness.

            I pulled a few things off the rack and shoved them at her. Wanda narrowed her eyes. “Will these help get the copy of the file?”

            “Don’t be so single minded. We will draw less attention if you don’t look like a mental institution’s latest escapee.”

            Shrugging a thin shoulder, she disappeared behind a small curtain. When I was certain she was distracted I ducked behind out through the narrow door. Her brother, an impatient mongrel, hadn’t waited around once he knew we were going into Paris. I hoped that he wouldn’t swing by to check on his sister before I got a chance to clear my head.

            I felt jittery, disconnected. It wasn’t just the woman I’d breathed earlier, though that was a part of it. I couldn’t precisely remember the reason why I’d taken so much of her soul in the first place. A little perspective was necessary, also I wanted to wash the bad taste out of my mouth. Soul. Whatever.

            There was a little tourist sink hole around the next bend and I leaned against a lamp post to absorb some light emotions. Uncomplicated sounded really good about now.

            Something was rotten at the heart of SHIELD. It would take more than I had to clean it out, if I even wanted to. That woman at the bunker had been a part of the group that had protected the free world since the 50s. They had been trying to take over the free world at the same time, at least some of them had.

            How had one of them made it to the bunker? What did that mean for my little mission?

            A more than middle aged man was walking down the cobbled street with a girl young enough to be his daughter. As they passed, in a cloud of expensive scent, I inhaled their souls. They were happy, even joyful, I could taste that they actually gave a damn about each other. Which was nice. I sat down on a little bench next to a bristo and wished them well as they passed out of sight. I closed my eyes and tried to think clearly. The new energy helped, like a shot of caffeine, but it wouldn’t last.

            _“Loyal? Loyal where are you?”_

            Damn telepaths.

            Why would a girl who’d locked herself in a bunker be interested in the Winter Soldier? No way a creature with her powers could be put in there against her will.

            “Found you!”

            Wanda wore a bright red jacket and gray leggings. She’d also found some knee length boots.

            All at once, the clarity I’d gained disappeared. All I wanted was to get to the safe house and show her the files. Whatever Natasha was going to do with her copy, I hope she did it fast, because someone else was going to be on the hunt for him soon.

 

_To Be Continued in the Next Installment…_


	6. A Small File

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fan fiction. Marvel, Disney, and their associates own the Avengers. I make no money from this so please don't sue. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and plots belong to me.

 

 

 

            Among the new buildings of Paris, there were historical monuments that their national pride or sentimentality could not allow them to tear down. Paris had a thousand years of history in stone, some of it sunk into old catacombs and sewers.

            Because anyone who maintains habits is dead, or worse, discovered, my hideaway was not in a dank hole forgotten by city planning, which I might have preferred.

            “Hello, Mr. Dubois.”

            I smiled at the doorman and answered in French. “Hey Ben, how’s the FC?”

            He rolled his eyes. “Still three points behind, sir.”

            “We’ll catch up. Ibrahimović will get that ball into the net eventually.”

            “Your mouth to God’s ears, sir. Have a nice day.”

            We walked into the lobby of a sleek apartment complex that somehow managed to be bright and pretentious in a way that only the French could pull off with style.

            Wanda tapped my arm. “Dubois?”

            “One of the most common names in the country, sometimes the best camouflage is a matter of statistics. Now that the doorman has seen your face, this place is blown. I’ll recover what we need, and anything that I want to keep and never return.”

            Wanda’s eyes flashed red, but it didn’t seem to be in anger. She looked contemplative. There was no room for something as gauche as an elevator in this building, so we took the narrow stairs two at a time to the top floor, and her face never changed as we bounded up.

            There were only four doors as the top of the house. Wanda looked at me, but I shook my head. Sure, I slept in the third room on the right when I was pretending to be Mr. Dubois; but no way did I hide anything of value there.

            Particularly not files that I was supposed to hand over to the Black Widow.

            She was going to have my ass if she ever found out about this, and not in a good way. If there was a good way with someone like the Black Widow. Yeesh.

            Instead of walking into my apartment I went to the end of the hall and pulled up the modern, short hear rug to reveal the old floorboards beneath. I handed the corner of the rug to Wanda, who took it with wide eyes, while I pressed down on the third plank from the door. I had installed the catch while the building was being renovated. Even if someone found my safe house, odds were better than good they would miss this little bolt-hole.

            _Why are you showing her this?_

            The thought drifted uselessly in my mind.

            Talk about odds. I knew I was under mind control, but I couldn’t make myself stop, or even care very much.

            Inside the bolt hole was a trunk. There were no guns, because those were forbidden in most of Europe despite what spy movies would have you believe, and because I was a lousy shot anyway. Instead, I kept records and identities. On the very top of the pile was a new green thumb drive. I had given Natasha the hard copy but all the copies were digitally preserved thanks to yours truly.

            I also kept a spare tablet in here.

            Swiping my thumb down the reader, bless modern batteries, I accessed it for Wanda and then handed it over.

            As soon as I did, I felt my mind clear a little and I managed to stumble away from her.

            Her eyes fastened on me. “Don’t go too far, Loyal. As fast as you are, my brother is faster and I’m not done with you yet.”

            Wanda put the drive into the port.

            The screen blinked and picture of an old hero flashed onto the screen in colored glory. Back in the early 1940s color was a rare and difficult thing to produce. Except for the most important images, most didn’t bother.

 

            James Buchanan Barnes, aka “Bucky”

                        Rank: Second Lieutenant.

                        Serial Number: ####-4522

                        Age: INDETERMANITE. IRRELEVENT.

                        Status: DECEASED. CLASSIFIED. EYES ONLY.

            Hair Color: Brown

            Eyes: Brown

            Height: 1.8m

 

            Wanda’s fingers traced the information as if it were the Ten Commandments etched on stone tablets instead of basic information about a man that had gotten himself into serious trouble during the war.

            Granted, from what I’d read, it hadn’t been his fault. Hadn’t been Captain America’s either. There is no such thing as fault in this world. Just consequences I guess, and cold unfeeling chance. Evil tends to spill over onto the good, and it annihilated the career and life of one Bucky Barnes on a snowy mountain just before the end of the war.

            As Wanda continued to skim through the information I tried to think of why this girl was so interested in this guy.

            “I’m not interested so much in who he was,” Wanda said in her low, sweet voice. “I’m interested in what he became. What my….friends….made him into. Look. Isn’t it perfection?”

            I looked down at the new image.

            It was a half shot, don’t by an indifferent photographer. A documenter rather than an artist. Didn’t matter. The subject still managed to dominate the eyes.

            The Winter Soldier.

            A secret weapon in the hands of Hydra. How ironic for them to choose a hero to do their dirty work.

            “We shouldn’t stay here. Grab everything and we’ll go into my apartment.”

            Wanda kept looking through the pages, her eyes moving even more rapidly than her thin fingers. “It’s fine. I’ll be done soon.”

            “Why do you even want to find him?”

            “He knows things. I want to help him save the world.”

            Yeesh. I shouldn’t have asked. Still… “Save the world from what?”

            “From us, Loyal. Didn’t you hear the song? We’ve always been our own worst enemy here.” Wanda set down the tablet and smiled at me. Hell, she was a pretty girl even if she did talk crazy.

            “Thank you.”

            Damn mind readers! I needed to get out of here before she decided to kill me, or turn me into a puppet.

            “I would never make you into a puppet. As long as you do as you’re told. I promise it’s for the right reasons. You can trust me.”

            “What was that thing…back there, in the bunker?”

            “That was the future.”

            “Will you stop being weird and cryptic?”

            She paused. “I’m sorry. Let me try again. It was a mobile AI platform based partially on the alien technology recovered from New York and integrated with an evolving algorithm which has achieved sentience.”

            I blinked. Twice.

            Wanda sidled up to my side. “It’s a machine…with a mind I can’t touch. With a soul you can’t drain, and you were close enough, weren’t you? That’s how you knew it wasn’t…Iron Man. That thing is going to do what it does, and I think I want a back-up plan.”

            I gestured to the tablet. “This is you back up plan?”

            “Did you happen to notice his arm?”

            My throat felt very dry. “His arm. Yeah. They gave him a new one. So?”

            She wriggled her fingers and a little red smoke poured into the air from nowhere. “We all got upgrades. His might just be the key I need.”

 

_To Be Continued in the Next Installment…_


End file.
